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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297154">the ugly underneath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vinland Saga (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brother/Brother Incest, Coercion, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Explicit, Sexual Abuse of Disabled Character, Sibling Incest, canon age regression</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two uglier worlds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Atli/Torgrim (Vinland Saga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>@vincestsaga on twitter... this one is a lot uglier and different from how I usually write them, but the seed wouldn't go away. I'm not sure how much I'll like this in a week, but I did make myself cry over it. Influenced by some tweets on Japanese twitter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Atliii."</p><p>The word's never been so grating on his brother's lips. Gritting his teeth and remembering to be patient, Atli looks up to where Torgrim's looking down at him. "What?"</p><p>"I don't wanna play this. You're touching too hard. It hurts."</p><p>If he's squeezing his brother's cock a little too hard, it's because of the hell Torgrim's been raising all day. He turned over a whole bushel of apples a neighbor woman had brought by, looking for a perfect one at the bottom, and then lost interest after a single bite. Apples wash clean, of course, but the bruises are there to stay. Fruit's about the only sweet thing there is, in a village without beekeepers, and gifts are rarer still now that they've been home six months and sympathy's drying up. After that he went outside and kicked another neighbor's dog for barking at him. He didn't put up a fight when the owner started escorting him home, but he did knock over their fish racks along the way—that was the point of the visit, evidently.</p><p>And all of it Atli's fault, of course, because these are things kids do, and these are things Torgrim does now that his brain's done whatever it's done and left itself just a little bit shattered. Any parent knows what kids get up to if they're left alone. Kids don't care how hard you're working to support them, and they don't care if you've saved them a black eye by meeting them halfway through the village, before this particular neighbor's worked himself up to it.</p><p>Torgrim's not a child, of course. Children get beaten if they misbehave, and for all the frustration, Atli can't bring himself to beat his brother. And because he's not really a child, there is one thing that gets through to him where reason can't.</p><p>"You do want to," Atli tells him, loosening his grip. "Look how big you're getting. That means you like it." It's obvious just by looking that he's nothing like a real child.</p><p>"I don't have to like it. I don't have to if I don't feel like it."</p><p>"Remember the baby," Atli prompts.</p><p>"I don't care!" He's dangerously close to kicking. "I just don't wanna!"</p><p>"You don't want the baby to get hurt, do you?" Torgrim hasn't fought back physically. Yet.</p><p>"No," Torgrim admits. His legs relax a bit.</p><p>This, Atli does feel bad about. He's made it very clear to Torgrim that terrible things will happen if anyone else finds out about the special touching, but the erections happen on their own and Atli doesn't care <em>what</em> people tell themselves, they'd do the same in his place.</p><p>The "baby", though.</p><p>It's lying to his brother, the way you lie to a child, and lying because Atli isn't good enough to make him behave the normal way. He doesn't know yet if Torgrim will ever catch on.</p><p>"I wasn't thinking about the baby." Torgrim holds his belly reflectively. "I'm sorry, baby."</p><p>Hearing that in his deep man's voice makes Atli wince, but he hurries to seal this minor victory. "And this is good for the baby, remember."</p><p>Torgrim seems to settle, still looking at his belly. He lets Atli keep stroking without complaint. "Is it gonna come out this time?" </p><p>"I don't know. You were very bad today."</p><p>"I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking about the baby." He looks suddenly stricken. "Do you think..."</p><p>"No, no," Atli reassures him. "It's healthy. I can tell. It just feels like staying inside longer."</p><p>Torgrim sighs heavily, but he closes his eyes, and then enjoys himself heartily, as he always does once it comes to this. It's nice seeing him happy. And it's nice seeing him protective of something, even if it's an imaginary baby and not the brother right in front of his face.</p><p>"Do me now, we're trading—" and it's only fucking fair that he get something back for this— "There, not too rough..."</p><p>He wouldn't ever force this, not if his brother fought, of course. It's just this calms Torgrim down, and it cheers him up, and sometimes he even goes to sleep early. An extra hour of peace, in exchange for ten or fifteen minutes of something he likes. It's the opposite of cruelty.</p><p>"I'm gonna have my own house, probably," Torgrim tells him thoughtfully. "When the baby comes out."</p><p>"I guess you will," Atli says, leaning over to clean the mess off the floor. One last little annoyance for the day.</p><p>"I'll be busy taking care of the baby like you take care of me. So I won't get bored anymore. But—" he gives Atli an enthusiastic kiss on the back of the neck. "You're really nice, so you can come visit."</p><p>Torgrim throws tantrums on a pretty regular basis now. Once a month at least. So he really has no business saying what he says next, which is, "You can't come over if you're gonna do <em>that</em>. I'm not letting my baby learn how to cry."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"There's other work," Atli says, trying to be reassuring and finding it harder than ever before. "You are helping. You take care of so many little things."</p><p>"Things your kids'll do, in a few years. Don't make them go idle so you can pretend I'm useful." Torgrim, who always grinned back at him eventually, even in his grouchiest moods, sits jammed into a chair he seems to resent for existing. His hands are clenched tight around the edges of the chair's arms, as if trying to snap them—not by brute force but by slow pressure over time.</p><p>"And there'll be other work then. More sheep to watch. And kids make work just by living."</p><p>"So I'm to mind your children, is that it? Woman's work?"</p><p>"Grandfathers mind children," Atli says, irritation starting to bubble to the surface. At least his brother could be soothed with food and toys, the way he used to— "You're their uncle," he hurries on. "There's nothing strange about it. It's a job for family."</p><p>"And the addlebrained."</p><p>"Brother, I'm talking about trusting my children to you!" It's not until he says it that Atli realizes he's not sure Torgrim <em>likes</em> the kids very much anymore. There's a strange look on his brother's face, and there must be a stranger one mirroring it on his own. Again, he tries to hurry on. "You can't possibly believe that's what I think of you."</p><p>"It's not about what you think." The word <em>you</em> is dripping with disdain. His hair and beard are getting long and scraggly now that he's in charge of them again, and the way he tosses his head makes them look even more unkempt. </p><p>"What would you rather do, then? Nothing? You know there's only so many options."</p><p>But it's clear Torgrim's been thinking about this. "Use me." It's gruff but unflinching. "For the things your kids won't grow into. Things your wife won't do."</p><p>"Brother." The word feels forced out of him. His voice betrays what he's thinking, which can't possibly be right, and Atli wishes it hadn't come out. Torgrim's looking him full in the face and he can't pretend to ignore it.</p><p>"What else is left?" Torgrim releases one arm of the chair to toss his hand dismissively to one side. "You don't have time to get round to all the village girls, do you? This'll be convenient. I'm always available."</p><p>"But what you're talking about—it's disgracing yourself, it's unmanning yourself." He can scarcely believe this is the argument he's making. But it's the truth. "How could you be happier that way?"</p><p>"I'd be a disgraced man instead of just a disgrace."</p><p>"But you are a man." He was always the fiercest warrior Atli ever saw. "You couldn't. It just wouldn't be possible."</p><p>"Fucking try me. <em>Use</em> me."</p><p>"I don't want to." Atli feels his voice waver. He can't even bear to say the most obvious thing out loud. It sticks in his throat like his own heart. "Please. I brought you back home to take care of you. Just get some rest and you'll feel better, you'll forget all about this."</p><p>Faster than Atli's seen him move in months, Torgrim rises from his seat."There's a lot of things I'd do for you, Atli, but I won't be your <em>son</em>!"</p><p>The kiss is rough. Atli doesn't know what to do with the scrape of a beard against his face. It's late in the day and his own chin is stubbly, and his brother—his <em>brother</em>—doesn't know how to kiss well. A hand behind his head is the only trace of tenderness, and the hand is what makes his stomach lurch the most.</p><p>For a second when Torgrim lets him go, a hand remains on his shoulder and Atli thinks this is the face English women must have looked up at, when his brother caught hold of them with their village burning around them. He's still strong, and he might not care if Atli throws up. Which he just might do.</p><p>Then Torgrim's hand is gone and it doesn't change everything that just ran through his head in the space of a single second.</p><p>"You don't know anything about this life. What it means to be a man living like this." His voice is almost a growl. "I'd rather be your whore than your pet. Anything else but that."</p><p>They've had the same life. They were always together, until just a few years ago.</p><p>Atli looks up at him, head spinning, at the man who just forced a kiss on him. "It's not worth it anymore, being my brother?"</p><p>"You're the only one," Torgrim says to him, "still telling yourself I qualify as a big brother."</p><p>"We're grown men. It doesn't matter anymore who's older."</p><p>"There's all sorts of animals you keep around, right? Dogs keep watch. Birds don't do shit but look pretty. And you've got yourself some sheep now. At least let me be your livestock. Get some wool out of me."</p><p>"I don't need you to <em>do</em> anything for me. You're not thinking straight." He's never had to explain this before. They've always understood each other so easily. "You haven't been feeling yourself for so long. You'll regret all of this tomorrow."</p><p>"Can't help being soft in the head, can I?" Torgrim looks more triumphant than hurt. He's been waiting to hear it.</p><p>"Brother." Atli tries to slide further back into the seat of the chair and finds his back pinned firmly with no more space left to claim. "Please. If you need to fuck someone, I can find you a girl. I'll take you to another village, find a house to sneak in. I'll take care of the family if we have to, I've had practice sneaking around. Just—please—"</p><p>"You," Torgrim says close to his face and almost cradling it, "are not lowering yourself for <em>anyone</em>. Least of all for me. You're the only man left in this family. No sneaking, no stealing. You—use—me. Stay an honest fucking man."</p><p>What Atli wants to say is <em>Don't you know what I've gone through for you, and never said a word</em>—but Torgrim wants to hear that, he wants to be blamed. He wants to give up everything he has left. And Atli knows it's true. Torgrim has nothing left to give but this.</p><p>"Not now," he says, hearing the quiver in his own voice. "Please, I need time." And his shoulders loosen a little from the relief of yielding again, after four and a half years of having to stand firm.</p><p>"It's all for you," Torgrim says, asking him to shed everything he's built up, join him again in their own world of two. His hand's on Atli's chest and Atli's not sure he's heard anything. "There's so much you can <em>do</em>. You've no idea what it's like."</p><p>"Torgrim. Brother." He would've felt Atli's heart racing before. No matter how thickly padded his clothes, his brother would've felt him and heard him, and they never would've been here to start with. "Don't, please. Just give me some time."</p><p>Torgrim's eyes meet his, much too close and blind to him. "Of course. Of course you can have time. I want you happy. It's all about you being happy, you understand that."</p><p>"Let go," Atli has to say. "Please. I can't stand up with you here."</p><p>The chair's never all that comfortable, but in the seconds before Torgrim moves back, it feels like being strapped to a torture device. Atli stands, against the protests of his knees, still leaning back onto the chair's arms, and Torgrim turns quickly.</p><p>"We won't get far if you're not in the mood." It's a dim echo of the way he used to joke, and it doesn't sound like he's smiling very wide. "Take all the time you want, but it's waiting."</p><p>"Won't you let me do something about your hair?" It's all Atli can think of, looking at it hanging down over Torgrim's shoulders. Something about his skin doesn't look healthy either, lately, but he's not sure how to fix that.</p><p>It's the wrong thing to say. His brother's shoulders stiffen. "I can take care of my own fucking hair."</p><p>"I didn't mean you can't. Just, won't you let me?"</p><p>A short silence, and then: "If you work the nerve up to fuck me, maybe I'll have to."</p><p>That's all Torgrim says before he goes out. Atli stays, steadying himself on the chair, not quite daring to sit down again. It's not for his benefit that this is going to happen. He's not sure it's for Torgrim's either, really.</p><p>It's strange, those being two different things. All his life, what was good for him was good for his brother. They were never different the way most people are different from each other. Now—now whatever he does, it'll hurt them both in different ways. But Atli doesn't have it in him to tell his brother <em>no</em>. He never learned how to do that. Never had to. And he suspects that even now, Torgrim's perfectly satisfied with that. Maybe it's the only thing he can count on anymore.</p>
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